Flames
by ilovecastiel18
Summary: Even though the bookshop is repaired after the near-Apocalypse, Aziraphale ends up spending the night at Crowley's flat. They both have nightmares about the recent events, and they help each other through them. Aziraphale/Crowley, Ineffable Husbands, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, romance. One-Shot.


**Disclaimer: **Good Omens, along with its characters, locations, etc. are the property of Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchet. If I owned the rights to it, I wouldn't still be desperate to meet the man that I absolutely ADORE: David Tennant.

**Summary: **Even though the bookshop is repaired after the near-Apocalypse, Aziraphale ends up spending the night at Crowley's flat. They both have nightmares about the recent events, and they help each other through them. Aziraphale/Crowley, Ineffable Husbands, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, romance. One-Shot.

**A/N: **David Tennant is my love and Michael Sheen is fucking adorable. That is all.

….

Flames

….

Even though he knew it was hopeless, Aziraphale wanted to see the ruins of his bookshop before he went to Crowley's flat. He wanted to see with his own eyes that it was gone before he could truly come to terms with the loss.

Yes, technically speaking, he could restore the bookshop and build up a new collection, but it wouldn't be the same. He didn't think he would ever really get over the loss of the place that he called home.

But at least he still had Crowley. He had been terrified for his friend for the entirety of the near-Apocalypse, and he knew that he would give up his bookshop a hundred times over if it meant that Crowley would be safe.

Speaking of Crowley…

"Crowley, dear?" Aziraphale leaned over and spoke in barely above a whisper. The bus wasn't crowded, but he still didn't want humans to eavesdrop on their conversation. He'd had quite enough of unwanted supervision from Heaven, thank you very much.

"Hm?" Crowley hummed.

"Why did you go to the bookshop?"

"I've been to your shop a lot of times, Aziraphale, you're going to have to be more specific." Crowley replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm. Typical.

"You know what I'm referring to, Crowley. Why'd you go there when it was burning down? And how did you get Agnes Nutter's book?"

"Honestly, angel, is this really the time?" Crowley let his head roll to the side so he was looking at Aziraphale.

"I was just curious." Aziraphale muttered, looking away.

Crowley sighed. "I went there to apologize, and ask you to run away with me to Alpha Centauri again. When I saw the flames, I ran in to try to save you. You weren't there. I got blasted in the chest with water from a fireman's hose, and I landed next to the book. Decided to take it with me, seemed important." Crowley explained in a rather clipped tone.

"You ran in to save me?" Aziraphale asked quietly.

"'Course I did." Crowley muttered, a small blush creeping up his neck.

"Why'd you go to that bar afterward?" Aziraphale asked. "If you would have looked in the book, there were notes explaining who the Antichrist was and where –"

"You were gone, Aziraphale. I thought you were dead. I had no intention of stopping the Apocalypse anymore." Crowley cut him off.

"You were willing to let all of humanity die?"

"I'd lost my best friend." Crowley looked even farther away, so Aziraphale couldn't see his face. "I'd have stayed in the bookshop if fire was harmful to me, but being a demon from Hell and all… I was hoping the war would kill me."

"Oh." Aziraphale had no words, so he simply reached over and took Crowley's hand in his own. He felt the demon lace their fingers together, and he squeezed gently. They stayed that way until the bus pulled up in front of the bookshop, which looked the same as it always had. As he and Crowley stepped off the bus, the demon tried to pull his hand away, probably trying to save Aziraphale the "embarrassment," but the angel held on, pulling Crowley closer to him so their shoulders were almost brushing.

"Well, do you want to go inside?" Crowley asked.

"Not right now, actually. Can I still take you up on that offer to stay at your flat, dear?" Aziraphale replied, turning to look at the taller man.

Crowley snapped his fingers. "The spare bedroom is all made up."

Aziraphale smiled, tugging on Crowley's hand to make him start walking toward the flat.

….

The two of them had made it to the flat without any issues. Aziraphale miracle himself some pajamas and slippers (of a matching tartan pattern, obviously) while Crowley went to the bathroom to brush his teeth and change into his black silk pajamas.

Honestly, sometimes Aziraphale marveled at the simple pleasures that Crowley indulged in, such as silk pajamas and bedsheets.

When Crowley stepped out of the bathroom and saw Aziraphale hovering by the door of the spare bedroom, he cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Well, goodnight, angel. I'm just going to…" Crowley motioned vaguely toward his bedroom. "I honestly never know how long I'm going to sleep, so probably wake me in the morning. Or if you need anything." Crowley paused again. "Yeah, goodnight." He darted toward his bedroom.

"Goodnight, dear." Aziraphale said, just before Crowley shut his door (leaving it open a crack, just in case the angel needed something). Crowley, with his heightened hearing, heard Aziraphale shut his bedroom door in the same way. What he didn't know, was that it was for the same reason as well.

….

"_Aziraphale, where the Heaven are you, you idiot?! I can't find you! Aziraphale, for God's – for Satan's – Ah, for somebody's sake, where are you?!" Crowley was walking through Aziraphale's burning bookshop, desperate to find his best friend. The flames licked at his skin, leaving soot on his clothes, but Crowley was not the right person to mess with right now. One look at Crowley's frantic face, and the flames gave him a wide berth._

_Suddenly, Crowley was blasted in the chest by a heavy stream of water, which sent him flying backwards. His glasses flew of his face, and he was left sprawled on the floor. Ash was falling into his unprotected eyes, but Crowley didn't wave it away. _

_He sat up, still searching for Aziraphale, when the realization hit him._

_He was gone. _

"_You've gone… somebody killed my best friend!" Crowley yelled. "Bastards! All of you!" his voice cracked, and he laid back down on the floor. Being a demon, he was mostly immune to fire, but maybe if there was enough of it, or a bookcase or beam fell on him _just _right…_

Crowley woke up with a start, clawing at his chest where he could still feel the smoke settling in his lungs.

That wasn't how things had happened. He had left and gone to a bar, and that's where he had run into Aziraphale in his non-corporeal form.

He and Aziraphale were both alive. The Apocalypse had been averted. They were _fine._

Crowley heard a gasp and a sob come from his guest bedroom. He quietly stood from his bed and made his way to his best friend. He had felt a lot of things when he'd thought that Aziraphale was dead… he wasn't going to let his best friend hurt like this without trying to help.

….

_Aziraphale watched in horror as Crowley collapsed onto the tarmac, gasping out broken phrases about Satan being angry and rising from the pit._

_No, he couldn't believe it. If Satan came up here and found out that a demon was friends with an angel, and had been actively working to stop the Apocalypse…_

_Satan would kill Crowley. He would kill him in an instant, and there was nothing that Aziraphale or Adam or Crowley or anybody could do about it._

_Crowley managed to stand just as the ground broke and Satan rose. And he looked right at Crowley._

"_Crowley, no!" Aziraphale yelled. But it was too late._

_Crowley had collapsed onto the tarmac, and his chest wasn't moving. _

_He was dead._

Aziraphale woke in much the same way that Crowley had, and at pretty much the same time. He woke with a gasp, clutching his face where tears had been falling in the dream. Unlike Crowley, who had been clawing at non-existent smoke, Aziraphale did have tears on his face. As he wiped at them, a sob escaped his throat.

He curled in on himself against the headboard, praying that Crowley hadn't heard him.

He had.

Aziraphale heard Crowley push the door open and walk into the room quietly, and felt the bed dip when his best friend sat next to him. He felt gentle hands wrap around his arms and pull him into a warm, silk covered chest. Crowley snaked his arms around Aziraphale's shoulders and held him as he calmed down.

When he had successfully controlled his breathing, Aziraphale wrapped his arms around Crowley's back and pressed his face farther into his chest.

"Are you alright, angel?" Crowley muttered into his hair.

"I'm… I don't know." Aziraphale admitted.

"What was the dream about?" Crowley asked, unconsciously rubbing circles into Aziraphale's back.

"It… I don't… well…" Aziraphale stuttered. He reluctantly pulled back from the embrace so he could look Crowley in the eye. "You died. At the airbase, when Satan… you died." Aziraphale's voice broke. He reached out and grasped Crowley's hand, feeling warmth spread up his arm when the demon returned the pressure.

"I had a dream where you died too." Crowley muttered. "We make a right pair, don't we?"

"Well… I'm glad you're okay. I've been anxious for weeks, that's probably seeping into my dreams. I just… it hurt, Crowley, to think I would never see you again. Just… be careful, alright? Whatever happens, just come back to me?" Aziraphale asked, looking away in embarrassment.

Crowley reached up and gently grabbed Aziraphale's chin, turning his face so they were eye to eye again. "Only if you make the same promise, angel." He said, his voice wavering slightly. "I mean that too. I can't lose you."

Aziraphale, with tears in his eyes, reached a shaking hand up to stroke along Crowley's jaw. "I promise to be careful, my dear."

"As do I, angel." He paused. "If you want, I can stay… I don't want you to have another nightmare…"

Aziraphale practically yanked on Crowley's arm, forcing the demon to lie down where he had been sitting. The angel calmly stretched out beside his best friend; their hands still clasped together.

"Right, well I guess that answers my question." Crowley muttered.

Aziraphale turned onto his side to face Crowley, staring at him until the demon did the same.

"I love you, Crowley. I hope you know that." Aziraphale muttered. For once, he refused to look away from Crowley in embarrassment. He wanted the demon to see how genuine he was.

"I know, angel. And…"

"You don't have to say it, dear. I can sense love, remember? It's practically radiating off you." Aziraphale cut him off. A blush crept up Crowley's neck and spread across his cheeks. "It's not a bad thing." Aziraphale moved closer to Crowley so he could place his free hand on the demon's cheek, which was still warm from the blush.

Crowley leaned forward just enough for their foreheads to rest together. "It's just hard, Aziraphale. Demons aren't supposed to feel love. It's a difficult thing to come to terms with. But… I love you. I do. I have for a long –"

He was cut off when Aziraphale leaned forward and kissed him. It was gentle and loving, something that Crowley had never experienced before.

And now, the demon felt a different kind of flame than the ones in the bookshop. He felt love curling in his stomach, spreading to warm his chest and limbs, until he was practically gasping from the heat.

"Angel…"

"I can feel it, Crowley. The love that was radiating off you just increased. I feel like I'm going to overdose." Aziraphale joked, his face so close to Crowley's that the demon could feel his smile brush against his lips.

Crowley leaned forward and kissed his angel again, letting the flames in his core increase until it felt like a forest fire. This felt different than that flames in Aziraphale's bookshop, different than the ones in Hell.

These felt _good. _And he would be damned (again) if he would ever let them go away.

….

_**A/N:**__ I'm pretty sure I've done a fic like this for practically every fandom that I'm involved in. Stands to reason that I would have to write one for Good Omens as well. Please leave a review if you liked it!_


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